


The Things We Leave Behind

by karakuri_wordweaver



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Angst, Termina - Freeform, did anyone else ever think about this while playing MM?, like seriously, overanalyzing Legend of Zelda puzzles to extrapolate horrific meanings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karakuri_wordweaver/pseuds/karakuri_wordweaver
Summary: Her memory is far keener than others think, though these days she wishes it wasn't so. With every passing hour, the grim tales she recalls from her mother grow darker and darker, and one eats at her soul more than any other...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	The Things We Leave Behind

Her memory is far keener than others think, though these days she wishes it wasn't so. With every passing hour, the grim tales she recalls from her mother grow darker and darker, and one eats at her soul more than any other...

> Wind howls through the canyon, clouds of dust dancing through a field of bodies and bones. Burnt and bloodstained banners flutter softly, the last, voiceless battlecries of their fallen bearers. Guays descend warily from nearby trees, scavenging whatever they can from the dead. At last, the battlefields are quiet.
> 
> But beneath the city of Ikana, the subterranean aqueducts are anything but silent.
> 
> The oracle’s message was clear: flee. Flee, and do not stop to gather your belongings. The end draws near. The ceasefire is a diversion. The last surviving of the king’s servants and staff dare not venture openly from the castle. The Garo are waiting along the road to ambush and slaughter anyone they suspect as having held loyalty to poor, dead King Igos. But though the Garo are cunning spies, they do not know everything, and they do not know- as far as anyone believes, at least- about the secret passages that lead from the castle to the city’s wells.
> 
> However, the Garo aren’t the only thing slowing their retreat.
> 
> It’s not an easy thing for someone to leave everything they know behind, even with death staring them in the face. Not only is it a departure from what they know, but it’s a journey into the unknown without any sort of protection, a naked exile into an unforgiving wilderness. Possessions lay heavy the charms of avarice, but even stronger still are their twin curses of need and sentiment. A home, an heirloom, a familiar cookpot- they can be as emotionally attached to a person as an arm or a leg physically are.
> 
> Again and again, the guards and the servants double back, remembering something they had forgotten. Again and again, their friends beg them to let it go, but do not abandon them when they go back to retrieve their treasures. The tunnels are filled with the same fearful cry, in a dozen different voices: “Leave it! Leave it!”
> 
> A few of them break free, clambering out of the wells and racing through the streets, heads down, praying to whatever gods still care that the Garo are not watching for them so far from the castle. Among these, fewer still reach the edges of the city and do not look back. The rest are not so lucky. Somewhere deep in the heart of Ikana, something wretched is released. The curse creeps like a miasma from every fissure in the earth, every crack in every stone, and those left in the city feel a sickness wash over them. The waterways dry up, the trees wither and die. Still hoping in vain that they can escape, the refugees cry out to their friends, spurring them on, as they turn to flee with slowing, dragging steps. “Leave it! Leave it!” The last thing they know is pain and horror as their bodies grow heavy and strange. Transformed into monsters, their last words are the one thing these Gibdo will dwell upon forever: “Leave it!”

The old woman pauses after finishing her story, waiting for a response, knowing that none is coming. A part of her is tempted to hobble over to the barn door, to look out across the fields at her old home one last time, but she knows she shouldn’t. It’s poor luck to look back on doomed places. Her thoughts of her granddaughter persist, however, despite her wishes.

_Why did you stay behind, dear Anju? I left a lifetime behind me, but you had so much time to start over again. Was it my fault? If I hadn’t feigned senility, if I had endured your cooking, would you have come with me? What was so important that you couldn’t leave behind?_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah idk, I always got this weird vibe that the Gibdo in Ikana Valley weren't just yelling "leave it" for the purposes of a puzzle.


End file.
